In the Clutches
by Weiila
Summary: This should be the beginning of Those not Chosen's sequel... hallelujah, wonders never cease! I updated! And it's all about Hawk!
1. Prologue

Warning for extreme creepiness… maybe I should make the rating R? What do you think, I'm not sure…

    Anyway… I said I wouldn't do any more stories before I finished what I've got, but writing frenzy got me. Dammit. Well, I don't know when I'll continue this, I'm probably posting it _way_ ahead of schedule. But, this is the start of what eventually will be the sequel of Those not Chosen.

    Staring Hawk as a leading character, according to my plans.

    So bring out the champagne ;)

    This isn't Hawk though…

In the Clutches

She's cold as death itself.

   Colder... 

   Always cold...

   She clings to the heat of my body, even if it seems to burn her sometimes. At times I can't help myself and try to hold her, even if I know what happens then. She hisses in shock and moves back, staring at me with eyes filled with fear and confusion. 

   I hate the confusion... it sends torturing chills through my weak body, because I know what comes after that disorientation, when it begins to settle. When the hesitant part falls back it stirs up memories at the same time...

   Those are the foulest... that is the worst of all. To see her writhe, trying to escape them... to hear her cry.

   But... no memories right now... they're still not there, not yet. Right now she's in the trance that torture me just like everything else, but it's the least painful of my torments. 

   At least she's not in pain... that's all I can pray for now.

   My head is heavily slumped backwards and I don't even try to fight her icicle fingertips on my cheeks. They move in a sort of deadly caress, I know well what will happen but I don't try to fight her. She's in enough pain... how could I bring her more even if my instincts are screaming. 

   They never give up protesting. Somehow trying to give me hope, perhaps. Hope that I'm not beaten yet.

   My slit eyes stare into the flames of hers, the lifeless, hungry gaze she holds on mine for a few moments makes my soul cry. 

   Oh goddess, just get it over with... 

   No... no... as long as she's like this she won't feel any pain... that hurts more...

   My fists clench as her pitch-black pupils leaves mine and I can feel the fake, hungry smirk on her lips even if I can't see it. It's not real, she doesn't really feel like that... I know it, I know...

   The lips that brush over mine are so cold that it burns, but I have to respond to the poison kiss if I want to keep her torture at bay for a few moments longer.

   Luna, it hurts, it hurts so damn much...

   Her fingertips aren't on my cheeks anymore, they have traveled down to my neck.

 "No..." is all I can murmur in a broken whisper as her lips move further down my mouth, one excruciatingly painful tiny movement at the time.

   I hear her hiss in fake delight at my pain, when she's like this she believes that she adores it.

   That is almost more painful than her screams, that she draws pleasure from my horror.

   She also thinks that my terror is for what I know she'll do... but it's what I know will eventually follow.

   But every single second I can stalk the true torment is a victory. There's just so little I can do...

   I've given up the hope for her happiness and peace of mind. If false, twisted joy is all I can hope to give her, that is what I will do. It's all I can do to protect her...

 "Don't..." I harshly whisper, her upper lip still lingering on my lower with teasing cruelty.

   If these are my last tears, I gladly give them to her to save her a little longer.

   She straightens up and curiously looks at the water crystals running down my skin. Then she meets my drained gaze again, and she smirks.

 "Poor, brave beassstman..." she purrs, her touch surely freezing the tears into eternal ice pearls.  

   Her voice isn't like it was, either... it's cold too...

   But at least her fingers are back on my cheeks. They move away too quickly though, even if a part of me still cowers in fear and wishes she'd get the malevolence over with.

 "Please..." 

   My fists clench again. I said it too quickly... I wasted one of the few precious words that can make her go back in the process. My coward side got the better of me before I could stop it.

   She gives a cold chuckle, purring in delight when I let out a shuddering breath against her lips as they close in on mine again.

   I used to long for those lips to touch mine... I still do, for as long as they are there, she is safe for another short while. But they never stay long enough, nothing would be long enough except eternity. To freeze in this position forever, before it's too late.

   I try to make her stay for as long as I can, but my surrendering kisses bore her after a few precious moments and she begins to move down my face again.

 "Please don't..."

   But it's no use... I've used up the words already. She only chuckles once, coldly, her breath freezing the skin on my chin.

   No...

   Her fingers caress my neck a little more urgently as her lips slowly move over the side of my chin, following the cheekbone for a little.

   I shiver and her lips smile scornfully against my more sensitive skin.

   I can feel from the movements of her fingers how great her hunger is getting, they move down to my chest not to be in the way as her lips slowly but steadily comes closer to their goal.

 "Stop... don't..." I whisper, trying desperately to call her back from the abyss she's pulling us both at.

   But I feel her lips touch the area where my pulse is to be felt the best. It thunders in my head and against her coldness.

   She remains like that for a little, lifting her mouth from my skin momentarily. The fingertips comes back, caressing the chained blood almost lovingly. I shudder again, more violently this time. And she smiles.

 "Poor, beautiful beassst..." she whispers with a soft, content sigh.

   I close my eyes, hoping to escape the sight of her head slowly lowering. But I feel it better than I would ever want.

   The fingertips stroke their way away again, coming to my left shoulder. Her idle hand already has the other one. Moving together they slip down and around my back. She knows well I can't move, but perhaps it's instinctual...

   I shiver as her hair strokes my skin when she bows her head. Even if I believed that I could stop her now, my tongue is too dry to move.

   At first, only her lips again, caressing my skin longingly as if she still wants to save her delight for a little while. But the lips part and her front teeth tastes my skin, gently scraping the trembling pulse. Longing just like her lips.

   But after those soft touches, she can't hold herself back anymore even if she wanted to. I feel her tense and hear her low growl, shutting my eyes tightly.

   Goddess...

   I can feel her fangs grow and every muscle in my body turns tense in a silent scream.

   My skin isn't thick enough to fight the sharp knives and she easily plunges her teeth into my bloodstream. Blazing stars of pain flares before my eyes as they are forced wide open and my lips part in a violent spasm.

 "Ah..."

   I can only groan, my tongue is like a dying leaf in Navarre.

   Seconds move past like days, stretched by the infernal torment. The chilling fangs remain in my body, bending the torn skin to let my blood flow out. And her tongue moves over my skin like a cold tentacle, lapping up every drop.

 "A... h..."

   Just as I can no longer think of anything else than prayers of her letting me go, the ice in my flesh slowly moves away. For a few more moments, while I gasp for air in ragged breaths, she keeps moving her tongue over the remaining blood.

   Ironically, the touch that lights revulsion in me is the one that heals my wounds. What she cut up is closed by her touch, even if the pain will remain for a while longer.

   My head is spinning, body heavy by loss of blood. Not that either of them can serve me well anymore.

   The first thought I can produce is the one that strangles the forceful relief I just felt.

   It's too late...

   When her hunger is stilled, the trance begins to falter and the memories come... and somebody is only waiting for that moment. That's why I fear her memories with double force, for the pain that whips at me due to them is strengthened by somebody else.

   No...

   I stare at her, but my movements are sluggish as I try to shift. She straightens up and smirk at me, still blissfully free.

   Please, torture me again... start all over, just as long as you don't recall what we are...

   But already the fire in her eyes sparkles as the blood that she drank gives her new strength. It reenergizes her when hunger and fear lets her enter the blessed trance.

 "No..." I croak again, but as she sees my horror and slowly begins to realize that it's meant for her, I only manage to push her in the wrong direction.

   No... please don't remember who you are...

   But I can only helplessly watch her as her head slowly tilts and her eyes change from cold and sneering to questioning.

   I close my eyes as her hand come to my cheek once more, this time not mocking a caress but trying to figure something out.

   She lets out a short, sharp breath and I open my eyes to find hers wide in confusion. I look away in agony. She's about to fall over the edge...

   My blood feeds her body and mind... she can think clearly again, and she grasps the truth bit by bit and all too fast.

 "N... Ke..."

   I cannot keep looking away as it starts lashing out at her and the eyes that were delighted mere moments ago fill with horror and realization.

   Her cold fingers claw at her neck and lips before she presses her hands against her mouth in terror over what she just did to me.

   My tears are all used up for now...

 "I did... didn't m... mean..." she stutters, wanting to back away but too afraid to move.

 "I know..." I weakly breathe, trying to give her the little comfort I possibly can offer.

   With a shriek of despair she throws herself at me and buries her face against my chest. My breath comes out ragged and shaking, I know that even if I tried now I wouldn't be allowed to embrace her. My bounds have a mind of their own, as sadistic as the blasted demon who made them. So I just remain as I am, slumped against the wall.

 "Kill me..."

   She pleads for the same every night, knowing my answer.

 "I can't... forgive me..."

   The goddess knows I would if I could, but I won't be allowed to just as she won't. All spirits, if only we could...

   Steps... no!

   She tenses, her arms squeezing me in silent wailing.

   Not so soon... no...!

 "That's enough romance for tonight."

   I can't hold back a growl, I don't even try to as he smirks. Every time I challenge him, we all knows what happens. But it's better than hearing her scream... in compare to that it's heaven to bring his delighted wrath upon me.

 "You never give up, do you?" he comments with a sneer.

   His sneer is hungrier than her trance, but I rather face him than her. Much rather.

   I don't reply.

   Sometimes I'm not sure if he really understands what tortures me the most, but I'm not going to try that single luck.

   He must know, because I can't hold back when he doesn't take up my challenge. Despite how drained I am, that terror gives me force enough to fight my bounds, desperate to break free and save her.

   He enjoys ultimate satisfaction in our pain and horror, pleasures in playing with us.

   I always finds the strength to try, but I don't always manage to change his mind.

   In fact, do I ever? Doesn't he just pretend to consider?

   I want to scream as he looks at her, and she shudders against me. I want to scream...

   Take me, oh goddess please take me, don't hurt her...

 "No!"

   As he rips her away from me every fiber in my body screams and it's pure wonder that my bonds still hold. The wall and floor even crack dangerously.

   She doesn't fight his grip, doesn't seem to have the strength to do it. I don't either but I can't stand to watch her get dragged away to be tortured by him.

   He smirks in amused delight as I fight to break free.

 "Don't touch her!" I roar, I can't believe I still have the strength to do it.

   Their eyes show that they didn't think I had it either.

 "Fascinating," he smirks, and she is sprawled on the floor as he lets her go.

   It's only a half relief, but it's all we'll ever have.

   His hands flare with darkness as I transform, my fangs bared and my eyes burning with rage. It won't help me get loose but I won't give up... I won't give up, you damn bastard!

 "No!"

   She shrieks and clumsily gets to her knees, the dark dress and cape not showing any signs of dust despite her fall.

   He looks at her and she almost draws back. But this time she holds her ground, even if she's trembling and can't seem to get to her feet.

 "What?" he says, soft as silk.

   It makes me grit my teeth to see her like that... I could cry. I want to cry...

 "Don't hurt him, please, I'll do anything, anything..." she begs, her hands falling to the ground.

   The nails cut into the cold stone as she shivers.

   Can it be that when I try to save her by bringing my version of the torment upon myself, I torture her more than he does alone?

   My rage twists and fades as I give a dry sob and crash to my knees.

 "Don't take her..." I croak, desperately.

   Then what can I do to help?!

   He laughs, utterly amused.

 "You two are simply unbelievable..."

   I helplessly growl as her head is forced upwards by his claws and she stares at him in terror. Terror for me?

   He smirks, hungrily.

 "But very well, I have plenty of time to take care of both of you tonight."

   She shrieks in despair as she's flung at me and I desperately clutch her cold, shivering body against mine as well as the bounds allow. Her lifeless blond hair slouches over the floor as we cover for the black lightning bolts that tear our flesh and wills into pieces.

   Rather this... agony... than... her screams... from the other room... and knowing... what... he does to... her...

 "Argh!!"

   I sit straight up in the darkness, for several moments wondering how I could move this far with the black chains on...

   Then I hear two voices, and realization hits me with so much relief that I almost fall back down of pure exhaust.

 "Kevin?!"

   And a scared baby's cry. 

   With a groan I press my hands against my face and try to get control of the remaining fear and the burning feeling of freedom.

   Thank the goddess... thank you with all my soul...

 "Kevin, what's wrong?"

   A warm hand touches my literally soaking shoulder. Warm... it's warm...

 "Goddess..." I breathe of relief, turning to Lise and hugging her fiercely in the darkness.

   After the first momentary surprise she hugs back, ignoring that I'm covered with cold sweat.

 "Did you have a nightmare?" she whispers, worriedly.

 "So real..." I growl.

   The child's cry calls to my senses and I let go of my wife, turning again and reaching out. The sound, smell and knowledge helps me find the cradle and I carefully lift the baby into my arms. He whimpers but turn calmer as I whisper to him. 

   Lise lit a match and then a candle by the bed, still watching me with concern as I meet her gaze.

 "Tell me about it, you'll feel better," she gently says.

   I watch her for a moment, then resolutely shake my head.

 "No."

 "It'll help."

 "It was about you too..."

   A growl rise within my throat, one that I haven't used for a long time.

   But it's obviously just as specified as I myself find it to be.

 "Rakadra?" Lise slowly says after a moment, pursing her mouth.

   Trying to strangle the growl not to scare Jason again I nod.

 "I don't want to tell," I grimly mutter.

   She leans at me, hanging her soft, warm arms protectively around my neck.

 "Alright, I understand," she whispers.

   Jason seems to have calmed down so I gently put him back in the cradle. However I note that my hands are still shaking as I draw back.

   Without a word Lise slips off the bed and goes over to the wardrobe across the room. She comes back with a towel, but won't let me take it. Instead she sits down beside me and starts to gently rub it over my bare upper body to dry the sweat off my skin.

   I watch her as she does so. She's warm, her eyes are vibrant and the blond locks flow in gold... 

   My fists clench as I force myself to wait. 

   She carefully dries my face and chest, going over to the back and right arm.

 "There," she finally says and throws the towel at the end of the bed with a simple movement, spreading her arms for my embrace.

   I need to feel that she really is alright...

   With a soft sigh I lean back until we're both lying down again, Lise resting on my chest. 

 "You never made a sound, it's strange," she mumbles and caress my cheek with warm, living fingertips, "I didn't wake up until you screamed."

 "No matter now..." I mutter, hugging her tight to let her calming smell fill my head.

   ... That's strange... I clearly remember every sound and feeling of the cold touches, seeing it all vividly, I can even recall the foul taste in my mouth. But I never felt any smell, why was my strongest sense excluded?

   I don't want to wonder, I don't want to think about it. I just want to hold Lise tight and know that it was just a dream...

   My hand absently reaches for hers and gently pulls it down to my neck. She doesn't ask, just carefully strokes my skin. With warm, truly loving fingers.

 "If you need to let it out just tell me," she kindly assures and touches my lips with her own, tenderly.

   I don't say a word, just silently hug her tighter to me.

   It's alright... it really is alright...


	2. Mommy scared

Merry Christmas, all of you! This is all for the fans of Those not Chosen, Winternight Thoughts and In the Clutches. 

Wow, an update. Well, now you'll get to see the basic idea of the sequel at least! At this rate, I should be done with it oh… around New Years Eve 2025… 

Slowly rocking back and forth, Lise softly sighed with a warm smile playing on her lips. As she carefully adjusted her grip of the small body resting against her chest, Jason let out a faint squeak of protest before sinking back into the soft clouds of slumber.

 "Sorry, little one…" the queen murmured, affectionately caressing the silky, red strands of hair that tentatively covered her baby son's head.

    One of his small hands twitched against the softly green cloth by his cheek, and the queen moved her hand to stroke the delicate little fingers and the tiny nails with the tip of her own pointing finger. Only that seemed so big in compare to Jason's petite frame.

    He yawned and squirmed a little but didn't wake up, and only that simple thing made her heart swell with love. Every little thing he did was just so cute. 

 "Apart from when you're screaming, you little beast," Lise added aloud, chuckling lightly and stroking the tender cheek. 

    Even if he was growing by the minute, already seven months old.

    He moved about a little again, and his tiny thumb slipped in between his lips. Probably on his way to wake up…

    Lise reached for the hem of the soft, white blanket that her son was wrapped up in; his moving around had caused it to slide off him. Carefully she adjusted it around his body, to add to the warmth of his blue wool pajamas. Finishing this she secured his position by adding her for a few moments free arm to the hold again.

    She stole herself times like this everyday nowadays, motherly love silencing every inner protest. There were no outer protests anywhere to be found. The kingdom seemed to silently agree on that their young queen deserved moments when only one little person needed her.

    Either that or Kevin barricaded the corridors for anyone who even hinted at disturbing the peace.

    Lise had to wrestle down a loud laugh at that thought, muffling it not to disturb Jason's slumber.

    It wouldn't surprise her one bit if her husband really did something like that, either.

    Though right now she was rather sure that he was meeting with a couple of messengers from his homeland. Trading contracts from Mintos; she needn't be there, Kevin could handle that himself just fine by now. At nearly eighteen years of age he had managed to grow into a true king – of course, he was about four years older of mind thanks to the magic of the Mana stones. 

    King and father. Lise's smile widened slightly and she leaned back in the rocking chair. It gently swung upwards, and this by accident set her sight on the bed table. Her eyes darkened slightly as she regarded the small glass standing there; even without the bottle of "medicine" smirking at her.

    Again her hand caressed Jason's soft head and she sighed, without a smile this time however.

    His birth hadn't been complicated, but not easy either. And with the memories of her own mother's fate hanging over her and Eliott like a dark cloud, Lise had made the decision to let Jason be her and Kevin's only child. She recalled too well the fear in her brother's eyes from the moment when she cried out because of the first bolt of labor pains. But even stronger than that, the double fear that had reflected in Kevin's eyes when he had scooped her up and carried her to the hospital wing, the torment of knowing how much her pain frightened him even if he had known that it would happen.

    Jason was a gift from the goddess, but Lise wouldn't put those she loved and herself through that torture again.

    The herb brewage still tasted far more bitter than it really should have. 

    She sighed again, trying to push the thoughts away as the little wonder in her arms yawned again.

    Sleeping…

    She frowned slightly, wondering how Kevin really was doing, considering how little sleep he had managed to get in the last few nights. Even since he had woken up, screaming, from a nightmare, his slumber had been light and restless. And he still refused to speak of it. 

    But the only thing to do seemed to be to let it pass. He'd recover soon enough, she hoped. And she sighed yet again. How stubborn was one half blood allowed to be?

 'Not more than that dear,' some part of her tsked while the rest just shook in tired frustration.

    In a way Kevin would probably do a good spy. He would _not _talk if he didn't want to, and not even Lise could do anything about it in this one case.

    The nightmare must really have been horrible… well, she did know that it had involved Rakadra, so that didn't really leave much up to debate on the matter. Her lips turned into two thin, white lines.

 'Calm down. He's dead. Meat mince, even. Just try to help Kevin forget and it'll be just fine.'

    Lise let out a deep breath and lightly pushed at the floor with her sock-covered foot, restarting the rock of the chair. Leaning her head back into the back rest she stared up at the roof.

    Yeah, when Kevin came back he'd…

    Jason tended to wake up slowly. So when he suddenly tensed in her grip and she bent forwards by the surprise to see his golden eyes wide open, Lise swung her weight forwards and stood up in alarm. 

 "Ja…"

    A eerie, yellow light reflected in the window glass, strengthened by the deepening darkness outside. 

    It was not a gentle sound when the rocking chair split in two rough halves which both crashed on the floor.

 "Damn!" a hoarse, inhuman voice snarled in the same moment as Lise spun around, pressing the now wildly squirming Jason tighter against her.

    Her grip tightened even more when her eyes met the dead gaze coming from two evil stars set within two pools of complete darkness.

 "You!" the queen of Rolante hissed, backing several steps.

    Bluish lips curled up in a vile smirk below a nose reminding more of a beak than anything else. The creature looked ridiculous in a way, with the purple striped, baggy jester getup, complete with a three-point hat. The bells in the hat were formed like skulls however, and the jingle was less than merry as he reached out and a scythe formed in his grip.

 "Lovely to finally meet, queen Lise," Deathjester cackled, "however I'd rather finish our business quickly, so…"

    He leapt forwards, swinging his curved blade in a fatal arc. Lise threw herself backwards, dashing towards her right to get closer to the door.

 "Guards!" she shouted, with little hope however.

 "They won't heeear yooou!" the evil clown confirmed, and she could almost feel his cold breath down her neck.

    Ducking aside again she avoided the blade a second time, but Jason's weight slowed her down dangerously. Desperately Lise flung herself towards the door, but had to leap back with a shriek as Deathjester swept up in her way, his scythe's sharp tip nearly touching her stomach. 

 "Be a nice girl and die already!" he snarled.

    Lise's eyes thinned briefly. Though her mind was to the brim filled with the determination to protect Jason and herself, she was still aware enough to realize that the evil creature was anxious. From the little she had heard him say herself and what Kevin had described, she knew that Deathjester was a pleasure killer. The smirk on his lips had however turned into a frustrated grimace and his attacks were more wild than precise as he leapt forwards again. He was scared of something, and she had a hunch what – but he'd dine on her and Jason's souls very soon unless she managed to keep ducking. 

 "Hold still, please hold still!" she whispered, pressing her son to her chest as tightly as she dared while she tried to dance away from the blade. 

    His frightened squirming was making it harder for her to hold on to him and she nearly stumbled on the remains of the destroyed rocking chair. Desperately trying to stagger out of the fray despite the wooden splinters biting into her soles through the socks, Lise found herself in a corner. 

    Deathjester's smirk returned.

    With a metallic clinking that sounded longingly in the queen's ears, her spear fell over upon connection with her flailing elbow. 

    But to pick it up, she would have to give up Jason.

 "About time!" the evil one cackled and raised his scythe.

 "No!" Lise cried out, throwing herself down in a final attempt to protect her son with her own body.

    The baby's seven months old brain had not yet grown enough to fully comprehend a situation such as this. But Jason could understand two things; "mommy scared" and "danger".

    It was just enough.

    As Lise fell with her eyes shut tightly in anguish, she suddenly felt a flash of warmth from the precious bundle in her arms, and a bright light cut through her eyelids.

 "What the hell _now_?" Deathjester growled, wasting no time to send the blade downwards.

    Jason moved, in more ways than one. Lise's hand hit the floor and with that she pushed aside, unable to maintain the grip of her worming child. He shot from her hold, almost seemed to bounce on the floor and flew upwards. 

    Deathjester screamed like a hellhound as two rows of fangs descended into the sickly blue flesh of his lower right arm. He violently swung his arm and Jason couldn't keep his weak hold. Whimpering, the wolf pup hit the green carpet and pathetically curled up with his ears pressed against his small head and the fluffy tail disappearing beside his left back leg.

 "You little bastard…!" Deathjester grinned, stepping towards the cowering cub and gripping his scythe as if the wound wasn't bothering him at all.

    He heard a sound and spun around in the last moment to catch the spear point with his own blade. The grin faded.

    Lise did not say a word, but her eyes burned with rage and her lips were parted in a growl that would make Beast King proud.

 "I don't have time for this!" Deathjester snarled and twisted the scythe to ram the butt of its handle into the queen's stomach. 

    But Lise bent out of the way, using the mad clown's own trick to attack. But she only managed to cut the striped sleeve of his tunic as he too managed to twist away.

    Instead of trying another attack he leapt backwards, his eyes wildly scanning the floor as he raised his scythe again.

 "Jason!" Lise shouted, anger and not fear filling her voice.

    She rushed forwards while the small pup scrambled to his paws and galloped towards his mother.

    The scythe came down.

    Lise threw her spear and it hit Deathjester's curved blade, knocking it off course. And thus, Jason safely slid into temporary safety by his mother's feet while the clown gracelessly crashed on the carpet. Lise tore the furry body back into her arms and dashed left along the wall, aiming for the door while her enemy was still in an invaluable moment of disorientation.  

 "Oh no you don't!" Deathjester screeched in fury, and she heard him get to his feet.

    But right then the door hit the wall so violently that the wood cracked in two. Lise's breath froze in her throat of pure relief and she could hardly even whisper a short prayer of gratefulness.

 "Oh shit…"

    However, that Deathjester so spoke was more to be guessed than heard since the roar which the grayish blur produced overpowered everything else. Not even a heartbeat had passed between the destruction of the door to when the soul eater found himself desperately kicking the air two feet above ground, claw-nails blindly scratching the furry wrist of the hand squeezing his neck.

    The scythe broke in two pieces under a huge foot hidden in a soft leather shoe.

 "_Die_!!" Kevin roared, opening his gap so widely that for a shocked moment, even Lise believed that he would bite the jester's head off.

    Considering the look on the blue features, the clown had no doubt in the matter. His fingers twitched like wounded worms as he threw them up before his face, gurgling out a spell in a forgotten language.

    A tornado of yellow light exploded from Deathjesters fingertips and hit Kevin straight in the face, rising up to cover his entire body. Snarling furiously the king of Rolante stumbled backwards, dropping his quarry.

    With a new roar the werewolf straightened up and the tornado shattered, the pieces falling a mere inch before melting out of existence. Deathjester visibly gulped there he hunched on the floor, tearing the remains of his scythe into his hands.

 "Until next time!" he snarled and disappeared in a dark puff of smoke.

    Kevin's claws tore through the cloud, but it dissipated peacefully within seconds, leaving nothing behind.

    The king's enraged howl made every piece of glass in the room jingle. Lise took half a step back, more of surprise than fear – unlike the five amazons and the two werewolves that entered one second before Deathjester's escape. 

    Jason whimpered, confused. But the queen got a grip of herself quickly.

 "Kevin…" she said, softly.

    She took a step forwards, when suddenly a furry hand landed on her shoulder. She looked around and into the protruding, concerned face of one of the messengers from the Beast Kingdom. His fur had an unusual shade of red, in his second form also wearing a tunic that matched his body hair.

 "It might be better to let him calm down," the growling voice warned, nodding at the crouched and snarling Kevin, "instincts to protect our own children can be dangerous, as you saw."

    Lise momentarily reflected on the fact that such a thing was rather ironic coming from a member of a people who sometimes let wild animals raise their infants, but she had more pressing things to care about.

    Truly, Kevin looked in every bit a berserker for the moment, eyes hungrily staring at the spot where Deathjester had disappeared while the clawed fingers twitched wildly. Lise could swear that she saw froth forming in the corner of his mouth.

 "You're probably right," she muttered, scowling worriedly at her husband, "but I believe that he needs to be calmed."

    With a glance at her nervous warriors by the door, she silently added that the shame of sending fear through the army definitely would be very painful for Kevin.

    Thirdly, they needed to make sure that there were no casualties. "They can't heeear yooou!" did not sound good at all. But for the moment, the king took full priority.

    Almost as if he could hear Lise's full chain of thought, the reddish werewolf grunted.

 "But be careful madam," he warned, "I fear that I and Rowan won't be able to hold him back if anything happens."

 "I doubt you'll have to," the queen promised, trying to will a smile despite everything.

    Jason still whimpered, rubbing his furry little head against his mother's arm as she stepped forwards, reaching out her right hand with the palm turned upwards.

 "Kevin," she repeated.

    Almost sluggishly, the flaring gold eyes of her husband turned at her. It appeared however that Kevin had troubles focusing his gaze; he blinked a couple of times, irritated.

 "Love," Lise said in a firmer voice, "it's alright. We're fine. It's alright."

    Her hand were mere inches from his muzzle now. Kevin's eyes shot at her fingers as Lise's voice faded and it almost seemed as if he would flinch away. But then his jaw closed, thick lips covering the rows of deadly fangs. And the big, hairy head leaned into the queen's touch, the flame of rage fading under the closing eyelids.

 "That's better…" Lise gently murmured, burying her fingertips in his fur, "Kevin… look at Jason."

    His eyes opened again, slowly. To see properly he had to turn his head a bit, otherwise the muzzle got in the way. As he finally saw the wolf pup curled up between Lise's arm and chest, the bigger golden eyes filled up with confusion instead of anger.

 "Looks a lot like Karl did back then, doesn't he?" the queen gently said and lifted Jason in both hands, "he beat you with about fifteen years, I reckon."

    Kevin's enormous werewolf hands met side by side before him, palms silently exposed to his wife. Carefully, Lise placed the now happily whimpering puppy in his father's grip. The king moved his hands towards his chest while his breathing steadily calmed, and Jason curled up in the gathered palms with a content sigh. But he looked up as a glow covered his resting place, curiously sniffing the shrinking fingers.

    As Kevin finished his transformation he hunched over again, head dropping with an exhausted grunt.

    Jason let out a squeaking bark, sounding almost triumphant. His small body flashed in the bright light of transformation, and moments later Kevin held a human child close to his heart instead of a wolf. The baby reached up and clumsily gripped a hanging, red lock of mane, pulling it excitedly. He appeared to have forgotten all about the terror of a few minutes ago.

    Kevin breathed in deeply and straightened up despite the protest from the prince as his toy was ripped away.

 "Sorry…" the king grunted, grimacing slightly as his gaze met his wife's.

    Lise shook her head.

 "There's no need for you to say that."

    She turned around, nodding at the amazons. They immediately slammed the hands not holding their spears into their armored chests.

 "You, look for casualties, that monster might have hurt somebody in the process of getting here. Somebody check on Eliott at once!" Lise instructed.

 "Yes madam!" the amazons choired fairly in sync, then spun on their heels and rushed out to fulfill their leader's order.

 "We will stay on guard here if you wish," the beastman Rowan offered, crossing his arms while his companion – that would be Eric, Lise now recalled – nodded in agreement.

    The more grayish werewolf paused for a moment and then smirked complimentary at Kevin.

 "Although I highly doubt that even Deathjester would be foolish enough to return for a while after that," he added.

 "Would still appreciate it," Kevin grunted, grimacing slightly again.

    His two kinsmen nodded, understanding.

 "Certainly."

    The two werewolves walked out and positioned themselves on either side of the doorway.

    Lise and Kevin exchanged glances for a moment, then as one both of them looked down at the helpless little creature lying in the father's arms. Jason's blanket had fallen off long ago, lying by the rubble of the smashed chair. Only left was the blue pajama, but the baby didn't seem to be bothered by that. With his tiny thumb hidden inside his mouth, he peacefully slumbered with his soft head leaning against his father's heartbeat.

    The mother lifted her hand and caressed the silky red hair with fingers which she now realized trembled slightly. Silently she moved her other hand to Kevin's cheek, without looking up.

     He made sure that Jason was held securely with the help of only one muscular arm supporting his small body and one hand with long fingers safely holding the little head. Only then did the king of Rolante reach out and wrap his arm around his wife's waist. She leant forwards, leaning her forehead against his shoulder while breathing deeply to calm herself as the adrenaline rush finally drained completely. Sighing softly, Kevin rested his cheek on top of her head.

    Like statues they stood for almost a minute, until the sound of familiar running footsteps made Lise turn around with a relieved smile.

 "Sis!"

 "Arf!"

    The queen stepped forwards a bit not to stumble backwards into Jason and Kevin as her little brother pounced her with a bearhug. That wouldn't have meant much a while ago, but in the last year Eliott had entered the age when small boys start growing a lot, and he was nowadays almost as tall as his sister. Karl was no better; no longer a mere pup but a full grown wolf. He spared his human friends from pounces though, and settled for skidding to a halt by Kevin's feet and raising up on his hinds to check on Jason. Seeing the little one safely asleep the wolf sat back with a relieved snarl. Kevin growled something back, trying to smile a bit despite his still wrecked state of mind.

 "I'm so relieved you're alright…" Lise mumbled into her brother's hair, squeezing him tightly.

 "You're stupid, sis!" Eliott grunted, though fondly, "_nobody_ looked at me this time!"

    He gently pulled away and looked at Kevin, who had moved over to the bed and heavily sat down on its foot end, carefully rubbing his neck with his free hand.

 "What are you going to do now?" the older prince worriedly asked, "they said it was some weirdo jester, don't tell me…"

 "Deathjester," Kevin grimly confirmed.

 "I doubt he'll attack as long as Kevin is around," Lise nodded, crossing her arms and frowning, "but you can't be everywhere."

 "Targeting, I think," the king growled, staring down at Jason's peaceful form.

    Lise breathed in and out with forced calm, willing her thoughts to go back in place despite her spinning worries. 

 "We're raising all defenses," she grimly spoke through her teeth.

    Finally Kevin looked up, meeting the gaze of Eric as he silently looked into the room.

 "If father offers it, we accept help," the king clarified.

 "We'll tell him that," the messenger nodded and disappeared from view again.

    Lise exchanged glances with Kevin again, and she shook her head after a moment.

 "He's too dangerous to normal amazon soldiers," she said, frowning deeper, "beastmen should be tougher for him but…"

 "It's not safe," Kevin muttered, clenching his jaw, "we can't wait for him to attack again."

    Eliott confusedly watched his sister and brother in law.

 "You're not going to try going after him, are you?" the prince asked.

 "Of course not, we can't do that…"

    Lise sighed, rubbing her neck.

 "I know," Kevin said.

    He stood up, determination in his golden eyes.

 "Call for Hawk." 

While I'm at it I'd like to recommend my friend Pokefreak's fic "Mirror, mirror…". It's got some… interesting plot *crazed laughter*


	3. Our hero, ladies and gentlemen

Chapter 3, Edgy business

The morning sun rose above the never ending surface of the ocean, painting it with crimson and silver. An interesting combination.

The sailors hurried about their own business on the ship while the wind steadily picked up to fill the sails. They just barely escaped the heat that ruled the desert, but the memory of it would fill the air for a while longer.

Seagulls screeched high above, unaware that they risked their lives by staying too close to the ship. They would never notice the sparkle of metal piercing the air before it was too late.

But he would not. Killing seagulls meant bad luck, after all, and either way he didn't enjoy killing that much.

The warmth of the desert stood no chance against the increasing ocean wind and he pulled down the black mask covering most of his face. Small wisps of light blue hair fluttered around, newly escaped from the leather strap confining the long braid hanging down his back.

He leant forwards, placing his arms on the ship's railing. Looking down at his hands and the black cape slouching over his upper arms, it was hard not to feel a little out of place. In fact, he still had not gotten completely used to the sunlight, despite standing on the deck since the sun shyly peeked above the horizon an hour ago.

'Ah, the joys of an adamant nighttime worker…'

It had been quite a while since he last worked in daylight. Most of his training took place deep within the heart of Navarre fortress, with missions as per tradition carried out at night.

The sunlight was almost irritating.

He mused about this for a while.

'Dress in black, don't like the sun. Oh happy day. I'm becoming a vampire.'

That amused him in a morbid way, especially the mental image of Carlie smashing her morning star into his skull. Or trying to, only to find herself hitting empty air while he gave a sinister laugh from the shadows behind her. Yup, he'd make a good villain!

He would have chuckled aloud, had his training not taught him full control of all such instincts.

Only training had been a little boring lately, however. As much as the thought of his friends' being threatened filled him with rage, Hawk had to admit that this seemed like an interesting change of pace. He had not been able to try out his vigilantly honed skills against any real danger since the last demon in the desert was found – which had been two years ago.

He yawned, stepping back to stretch out a little. Only being awake at night caused another problem than getting used to darkness until light became painful. Stifling a second yawn he headed towards the door leading into the inside of the ship. The other travelers and hardened sailors went to great lengths to stay as far away as possible from the slender man clad in black, but he hardly noticed.

The slightly smelly, creaky bowels of the ship were far duskier than the outside world, which would have been good. But instead he only felt irritated that his eyes so quickly lost the ability to pierce the deepest shadow, and paused by the foot of the stair while waiting for his dark vision to recover from the abuse.

Eventually his eyes adjusted to his satisfaction, and he headed forwards through the none too roomy corridor – more like a tunnel – towards his cabin.

He stopped with one hand hovering above the door knob. Something wasn't right.

And he would have been ashamed of himself if he had not known what it was. Silently he pulled up the mask over his face again, until only the eyes could be seen.

The door did not make a single sound as it opened. The silence from inside the cabin made the lapping of waves and creaking of the ship seem deafening.

A shadow slipped inside, and the door closed behind it. It seemed as if only fingertips stroke against the empty lock, but the faint click rung through the dusk.

That was the challenge.

From out of nowhere, a needle pierced the empty space from the middle of the room and the shadow. It hit only wood, for Hawk was already gone. He melted into a shadow beside the cot, listening intently. This one was good... it would be fun.

A flash of darkness in the ceiling warned him just before the metal star would have cut into his shoulder. He swept across the floor into another shadow, keeping one eye on the shade above him all the time. It spidered in the opposite direction, disappearing from view in a duskier corner between the ceiling and wall.

Interesting.

From a hidden pocket, Hawk withdrew four thin blades, holding them between his fingers as he searched the room with his gaze.

A storm of needles erupted from the corner on the other end of the room, and he rolled aside while throwing the blades. They passed through the swarm of tiny metal pieces without hitting a single one, never changing their exact course. The shadow leapt onto the floor to avoid them, drawing a pair of black daggers from its belt. Already on his feet, Hawk did the same.

It was another ninja, draped in black with its face hidden behind a mask of its own. The eyes were hardly visible between the cloth and the brim of the helmet.

Details.

They clashed, whirling around in a fatal dance of sharp edges and tricks, where speed was the only thing that could save them. The only sound heard was a whispering screech as the daggers occasionally met.

Hawk tried to catch his attacker's ankle with his own and twist during the confusing exchange of blows, but the dark clad foot slipped away with almost feline grace. At the same time, the assailant twisted its arms around, risking loosing balance in order to succeed with an attack. Hawk bent backwards like a snake, but one of the black daggers grazed his face. Not nearly enough to draw blood, but his mask received a gash and fell open, hanging uselessly by his other cheek.

Humph.

He continued backwards, planting both hands on the floor and sweeping the rest of his body upwards. The heel of his boot smashed into a chin with a satisfactory _clack _and the assailant staggered backwards. Long before it had time to regain orientation, Hawk was behind it with a dagger at its throat. It tensed.

"I win. Drop them," Hawk murmured.

The daggers hit the floor, one of them burying its blade a considerable length into the floorboards. In defeat, the ninja silently crossed its wrists behind its back. Hawk withdrew a thin rope from another pocket and began to loop it around the end of the assailant's arms, using only his left hand since the right still held the dagger.

"Not good enough," he said, "but at least you cut my mask. It was a stupid move, though."

The attacker shrugged, silently. Hawk secured the first knot with a swift pull and started with another, for good measure.

"I don't think the captain will like the news about a stowaway," Hawk continued in a conversational tone, "so just what am I supposed to do with you? Hmm?"

Still no reply. Not lowering the dagger, nor ceasing to work on the tying up business, the nightblade bent his neck forwards. Now that they stood still, it became apparent that he was taller than his prisoner, and thus reached without any greater troubles. He bit down on the hem of the mask and pulled back until the cloth slipped off the crook of the wearers nose and fell down her face as he let go.

She sneered in amusement as he did not quite manage to hide the momentary flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"Who did you expect?" she asked.

He had recovered by then, and sheathed the dagger while taking a step back.

Ah. It had all been part of her training, then. Not too bad at all.

"The question you should ask yourself," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips, "might rather be what I would have done if it was somebody else."

She glanced over her shoulder.

"Now you're treading on dangerous ground, Hawk," she said.

"Says you."

"That, I do."

He took another step backwards and regarded her with a healthy deal of amusement.

"I think I like this situation though," he said, "now you can't slap me."

Jessica raised an eyebrow.

"When was the last time I slapped you?" she asked.

"It can never get too long since the last time, in my opinion," Hawk said.

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"My only reason to slap you is that you don't behave, after all."

She snickered at the look on his face. In the next moment however, he was behind her again, taking her chin in one hand.

"How does one behave around a lady like you to avoid being slapped then?" he asked, eyebrows twitching their own message.

Jessica spun around on one foot, forcing Hawk to duck as her other leg swung at him in a wide arc. His elbow rammed the inside of her knee and with a frustrated gasp she fell. Even more irritated as she landed in his arms, as he casually sat on one knee on the floor. He grinned at her grimace, until he felt a row of cold stitches graze his Adam's apple.

"Check," Jessica said.

She pushed, forcing him to let go of her and retreat. Even as she slipped to the floor her hand never moved away from his throat.

"Cheater," Hawk said while moving backwards over the floor.

"I never said you won," she reminded him.

"I tied you up."

"Not good enough. You're loosing points, trainee."

"_You_ calling _me_ a trainee?" he said, a hint of deeper offense in his voice.

"You've just failed to make a good impression this time."

His back hit the wall and she rose up on her knees, holding him down with the needles.

"Check mate," she said, grinning.

Hawk sighed.

"Okay, you win," he said.

But as her triumph seemed complete, he added:

"One victory out of five isn't too bad, after all."

Jessica's smirk disappeared immediately.

"Why you!"

She dropped the needles, and despite risking to be strangled in the wrestling match, Hawk couldn't help but laugh.

'-'-'-'

'-'

_Author's note:_

My god, this was so terribly animeish… and I say that as a lover of anime, but still, golly… I kept seeing the fight animated in my head, dramatic music and all.

Anybody still reading this? I'm going to attempt to finish this before 2007, I promise. Maybe even 2005!

… wait a moment, did I just write a 100 percent Hawk-centric chapter? I better check if I've got a fever…


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